Page 47 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

Right now.

I want Kian to take me home with him.

Even if it’s a terrible idea.

Even if he’s the worst kind of beautiful mistake.

Even if he’ll never truly be mine.

So I do something reckless.

Something bold.

Something so unlike me it feels like a stranger has taken control of my mouth.

“Kian?”

“Yeah?”

But he isn’t looking at me. He is still watching the bar door like he can see or hear something that I don’t.

“Take me home with you?” I ask, voice trembling, hope crackling like a live wire between us.

His gaze snaps to mine, sharp and stunned.

“What?”

And for a second, I falter.

Maybe I misread it all—the heated glances, the protective energy, the way he’s always felt just a little too close when we talk.

Maybe he doesn’t want me.

My throat closes, my heart stutters.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I thought you—shit. Oh, God, I thought you wanted me. But of course you don’t. I’m not?—”

“Hey,” he cuts in, voice rough, low. “No mistake.”

But I’m spiraling now, embarrassment rising like bile.

“You don’t have to lie, Kian.”

“I’m not fucking lying. Not to you, Arliss. Never to you.”

“Yeah, right.”

But then he grabs my hand.

Not gently.

Not cruelly.

Just desperately.

He brings it to the front of his jeans, and oh.

Oh.

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